


Mold

by Anonymous



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, F/M, Horror, Poetry, Prose Poem, Vomiting, fungus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:22:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28588731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: My boyfriend is mold.Dizzying pitch black spreading on the walls and against the underside of my toilet seat and the inner rings of my bathtub.When he breathes I choke but I just can't get him out of my lungs.You can only scrub so hard before you begin to damage the walls.
Relationships: Gamzee Makara/Terezi Pyrope
Kudos: 11
Collections: Anonymous





	Mold

My boyfriend is mold.  
Dizzying pitch black spreading on the walls and against the underside of my toilet seat and the inner rings of my bathtub.  
When he breathes I choke but I just can't get him out of my lungs.  
You can only scrub so hard before you begin to damage the walls.

He shows up in my dreams.  
He's so smiley.  
Covered in grime  
Full of bullet holes  
and grease  
and paint  
and sugar  
And when I sleep my breath catches his and we kiss, just a bit.  
Tastes bitter, like coffee

My boyfriend is fungal.  
No matter how far away I walk I carry his spores with me and together we paint the apartment fresh new colors  
and it seeps in

Tza'raath

and the landlord yells because I don't go to sleep at night anymore.  
I'm so fatigued, but that's alright.

Grease, to clog my arteries

Paint, to draw my smiles

Sugar, to kill my health

And I just can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched.  
No amount of fungicide can clean my veins  
(and do I try to inject  
oh, do I try)  
But it's alright  
he cradles me to sleep  
infectiously  
and I would never  
hurt him

Breath mints  
Ah  
and I smell better  
I can kiss  
and spread his rot

My nose is cold with mint and it coats my throat like cotton  
I can't see anything but flowering mycellum

My boyfriend died the other day  
and I'm sad, but I'm happy, and I'm sad, and I'm happy  
because he taught me how to hurt  
(others, because he would never hurt me)  
(and I'm sorry for hurting him)  
(I don't know what came over me)  
Someone tells me it's his ex  
Someone else tells me its his mom  
And I know they're both true, he's just so damaged that I can't blame him  
He left me a parting gift  
and I hack and cough it up  
Brown blood

but mushrooms can't die, only grow, so long as a single spore survives  
and it nurtures itself  
in my brainstem  
sprouting  
I am mycophagous  
I am necrotic  
I am parasitic  
I am scabrous

I grow

I writhe

I spasm

I seize

I carry fruiting bodies and coat the walls in black ink when I remove the contents of my lunch from my body through blunt force and they come up looking like used coffee grounds, extracted of flavor, no longer even carrying the basic twitching nodules of caffeine required to make the drink tolerable.  
Where I travel, mold goes with me, tucking me into bed, rotting the structures  
condemning  
every  
house  
I  
am  
stuck  
within

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
